


fell in your opinion

by lylikers



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, Male My Unit | Byleth, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Time Skip, could be read as gen - Freeform, swordfighting lessons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:28:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28707420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lylikers/pseuds/lylikers
Summary: Turning down Dimitri was a wildly easy feat in theory, but in practice, Byleth found it excruciatingly difficult.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38





	fell in your opinion

**Author's Note:**

> i lied im writing more fe3h. this is referencing their c support where dimitri asks byleth to help him teach the orphans i forgot it existed and its actually the cutest thing ever. random title from falling by florence

Striding out of his quarters, leaving behind a slim stack of ungraded papers and passing by a crowd of enthusiastically friendly faces, Byleth decides that the monastery is odd. 

Memory of life before his employment is nothing but foggy synapses of firepits and crowded inns and bad dreams. Late nights spent pressing his index fingers to the horizon and staring blankly at the stars when his father would usher him away from talk of politics. He felt complicit to the whims of his own monotonous life, and never strayed far enough from the battlefield as to have time to ponder how he felt about that.

Change happened in such quick succession, though, and now he wakes up on a campus far too large and spacious to feel comfortable in the way that twenty years of routine had become. The kids milling around give way to inside jokes and embarrassing childhood stories and he’s amazed at how adamantly they rope him into a world he never even knew existed. The events of each day start to weave themselves into something resembling normalcy, even when everything still feels too clean and fragile and otherworldly. 

What’s most foreign is the sheer amount of people he’s surrounded with, and the diversity weaving itself through each of their characters. The personalities that made up his formative years had been gruff and resilient, time-worn barkeepers and mercenaries and bandits alike. The students he’s been training for the past few months lack the disgruntled, dully aggressive fighting styles he’s so used to. Annette is overly cautious but extremely uptight, spells charged and cast too powerfully or not powerful enough or even as complete duds, if she’s especially nervous. Felix’s parries and blows are definitely more reminiscent of what Byleth is used to, yet he maintains an air of regality through his hostile stabs and slashes. The upper-hand Byleth has in skill barely makes up for how he’s forced to adapt and accommodate his students, but it evens the playing ground and presents an enticing challenge. Even when he feels like he’s floundering through administering lectures and written exams, a weapon in his grip offers a sense of control and security.

He doesn’t think he was ever cut out for a position like this, a mediator and friend and teacher. He’s never quite sure that he’s enough for these kids born from royal blood and bone, but their company and praise tides him over when it comes to his lingering self-doubt. It’s just all so different and new.

So yes, the monastery is odd, but the jury is out on whether that’s a good or bad thing. And as much as he loves his students, a unique kind of calm settles over him as he begins to trail away from the perimeter of the Officers Academy, towards the small trading posts and bartering villages that litter Garreg Mach’s base. The people here are much poorer, living under the physical and financial security of the Knights of Seiros so long as they continue providing their own goods and services. These small towns are familiar sort of places, in the same vein as the familiarity that washes over him when it comes to fending off bandits in places he remembers from old commissions or skirmishes fought alongside Jeralt years prior. Of course, unlike his time before the monastery, he’s now accompanied by his students. That’s another new change- fighting alongside them- but they’re in no way a hindrance. If anything, it’s empowering.

Damp foliage and grasses crush under his boots as Byleth trudges down a path much more narrow than its predecessors. Classes ended about an hour ago, and the afternoon sun cuts through what’s left of the canopy of forest over his head, offering slim rays of relief from the usual chill of the Horsebow Moon. Steep mud and rock flatten out into something resembling something more like a main dirt road, and he spies the edge of the small village soon after. In a patchy clearing by the edge of the closest building, children maybe nine or ten years old play with wooden swords. Over the group stands Dimitri, holding the attention of each and every one of them, a gloved hand resting on the guard of his own sheathed sword. 

Byleth was reluctant to accept Dimitri’s offer to teach, at first. He had never considered himself good with children, far too awkward and not at all warmly endearing in the way Dimitri exists perpetually. He can see it now, in the way the prince has them lined up, correcting their posture with elegance and care, grinning back at them and ruffling a young girl’s hair after she leans up to whisper a joke of some sort into Dimitri’s ear. Turning down Dimitri was a wildly easy feat in theory, but in practice, Byleth found it excruciatingly difficult. Not when he sounded so defeated over not being able to fit these lessons into his already crammed schedule, and not when his tone brightened completely hearing that Byleth was willing to lend a hand. The Dimitri teaching these orphans is happy in a way that differs completely from his demeanor on campus grounds, authentic and radiant.

His head snaps up once Byleth begins to approach the group directly, and he beams as the kids turn their heads in curiosity. 

“Professor!” He exclaims, moving a hand onto the head of the child closest to him and walking the group forward to meet him in the middle. They herd around him adorably, gap-toothed and hair mussed. One reaches out his hand for Byleth to shake, so he bends down to greet him as Dimitri chuckles.

“This is Professor Byleth,” he explains politely to the children. “He teaches back at the monastery, and he’s going to assist in your lessons from now on, too.”

“Is he any good?” An older girl pipes up, a hushed chorus of voices reiterating the question.

“Much better than I,” Dimitri reassures her, and the kids murmur amongst themselves, as if that was simply impossible.

A faint smile cuts through Byleth’s features. “Have you ever seen His Majesty wield a lance, though?” He prods. “That’s when he really gets going.” Excited conversation erupts and Byleth stands.

Dimitri’s eyes narrow in his direction, amused. Byleth cocks an eyebrow and the prince’s smile widens.

“Alright, everyone,” Dimitri announces, assertive in tone and just a little louder in volume. “How about you all partner up and begin to spar? Use only the moves we’ve worked on this week. The Professor and I will make corrections where we see fit.”

Feet scuff on dirt and they all shift into fighting stance as the two men begin to mill around. Dimitri is actively calling out to each pair, complimenting strong parries and reminding them of correct posture. The kids follow his instructions diligently, brows furrowed and eyes gleaming. Some move awkwardly, with hesitation, and others with utmost enthusiasm. The girl from earlier has picked up an astoundingly quick rhythm with her own sparring partner, a boy her age that looks to be her sibling. They compete in zeal and earnestness, taunting each other with smirks that look more goofy than intimidating. Byleth catches Dimitri eyeing them proudly, obviously his star students.

Two boys Byleth had been watching end their spar with a cloud of dirt kicked up from under one, the other pointing the wooden tip of his sword to the chest of the defeated. Byleth offers a hand, unsheathing his own sword after he has both of the boys’ attention.

“You both have really nice technique and posture, so.. keep up the good work,” he begins, unsure how to go about his advice in a way that will make sense. The boys nod curtly.

“But you’re a little too far away from each other. Your attacks and blocks are weaker because you aren’t using the sword where it’s strongest,” Byleth goes on, laying his blade flat over his knee. “This middle part here is the fuller, and it’s where all of the weight from the hilt and the blade distributes itself. If you use the point,” he gestures to the tip of his blade, “you lose that strength and weight. Plus, your blade is more likely to break.”

He sheaths his sword and stands back up. “Give it another go,” he advises. “And try taking the advice this time.” The boys’ gazes linger for a moment. 

“I know it’s a little scary.” Byleth adds on, nearly tripping over his words. “But you’re going to have to get closer if you want to move onto the cooler stuff.”

That makes them smile, and they shift into a fighting stance once again.

When Byleth raises his head, Dimitri is eyeing him fondly, completely endeared.

.

They train the orphans for maybe another hour, before the sun begins to set and the chill starts to set in. The lesson leaves off on the possibility of Byleth bringing along Sword of the Creator the following week, to which Dimitri shakes his head and laughs while the children’s jaws fall slack. Thankfully, the sky had begun to clear after a morning of drizzles, and the two trek back to the monastery on relatively dry ground. Pink and yellow cut across the azure sky like blades of color, and reaching the apex of one of Garreg Mach’s surrounding hillsides, the sunset glows hazy and fevered across the horizon. 

“Today was a lot of fun,” Dimitri admits delicately as they pause to take in the view. “I was afraid you wouldn’t share the sentiment.”

A tranquil silence hangs between the two as Byleth finds the words to respond. “I didn’t think I would either, but I did.”

A few moments pass before Byleth resumes along the path, Dimitri striding right back to his side after one more lingering gaze at the skyline.

“They seemed to really like you,” he comments. “They’re all apprentices of some sort right now, so I’m sure they’re tasked with supply runs and the like during the day. I admire their hard work.”

A lapse in his thought holds the conversation under a digestive pause.

“I think I’d like children of my own, someday. I don’t want anyone to go through what those kids did. What I did.”

They fall into step as Garreg Mach draws closer. “At the very least, you’re an amazing teacher,” Byleth tells him.

“I learned from the best.”

“Is that so?”

The final peeking rays of sun disappear behind the jagged mountains lining the horizon, and a dim shadow falls over them both.

“Yeah,” Dimitri breathes, tender and faint.

**Author's Note:**

> hmu @riastuck on twitter!


End file.
